The Caretaker
by WriterJC
Summary: COMPLETE! A MALP recovery mission turns into something completely unexpected for the Atlantis gang.
1. Default Chapter

Title: The Caretaker

Author: Jackee (WriterJC)

Rating: Nothing you wouldn't catch on the show. . . . hope that helps.

Archive: Fine by me, just let me know where. Eventually at and my own woefully un-updated webpage. ( WIP

Category: Drama

Summary: A MALP recovery mission turns into something completely unexpected.

Spoilers: Anything and everything up to "Before I Sleep".

Sequel/Season: Season One

Disclaimer: Only mine in my dreams. . . .

Authors Note: This is only my second Atlantis story and I still feel as if I'm getting acquainted with the characters yet. Please don't hold it against me. My first Atlantis attempt was "Storm Surge" and is available at this site, my web page and Wraithbait.

Thanks to gaffer for being a terrific beta reader.

CHAPTER ONE – TWINKLE, TWINKLE

"When we get to the other side, you'll need to be sure to . . ." Major John Sheppard rolled his eyes as Dr. Rodney McKay continued to spout rapid-fire instructions to Atlantis control. Did the man never shut off? Normally McKay's brand of super intelligent ADHD was bearable, but today it was only adding to the headache he hadn't been able to shake all morning. Descending out of the jumper bay, heading for the world the scientists had designated PX3-922 was a little late to start complaining about it.

"Be quiet for a sec, I'm trying to concentrate." John's softly uttered words had the desired effect, and cut the scientist off mid-sentence. Never mind that the jumper handled the journey through the event horizon virtually on automatic or that Rodney was well aware of that fact – it brought a half second of blissful silence. John hoped that it would last long enough to get them through the wormhole.

No such luck.

McKay was halfway through a sarcastic rebuttal as John felt the familiar effect of demolecularization. Good old McKay, he thought, spreading good cheer throughout the universe on yet another level. The rest of McKay's response died away as they rematerialized on PX3-922.

It had been one thing to see the moonscape in brief glimpses transmitted by the tumbling MALP that had suddenly found itself in zero-G, but it was quite another to see that same moonscape spread out before them like a pale, silvery blanket of rolling hills. There was something hypnotic about the luminescent surface that had him blinking in an effort to re-gather his thoughts.

John didn't remember any such effect back in the control room. Of course they had been pretty busy with trying to shut off a previously unknown alarm. It had taken a couple tense minutes before they knew for sure that the cause of all of the blaring noise was the city reacting to something on the opposite side of the wormhole. The telemetry from the MALP hadn't been very helpful, only alerting them to the fact that the gate was in space and in an environment that was likely not suitable to any form of life as they knew it.

After forty-five additional minutes of debate, keyboard tapping and out-right arguments they had managed to come to two conclusions. One was that, while the alarm was consistent with some of the other systems the Ancients seemed to use often, they didn't know whether it was meant to be a warning or a distress call. The second was that unless they rescued this MALP, they would be down by one more – something that they could hardly afford with such finite resources.

And so it had been decided that they would proceed cautiously through the gate, do a cursory look-see for the source of the signal and recapture the MALP so that its data could be studied.

Shaking off his initial lack of concentration as headache related, John managed some neutral 'mission is normal' comment to Atlantis before the wormhole winked out behind them. About that time, McKay's power of speech seemed to return as well.

"This is incredible," he murmured, gesturing toward the glistening surface as it reacted to the jumper's lights, shimmering in iridescent purples and blues. "This moon has some amazing photo-electric properties. And the potential power output --"

"It is indeed beautiful," Teyla spoke up, summing up everyone else's thoughts in a few concise words.

"Yeah, it is pretty neat looking," Ford put in from the co-pilot's seat.

"Beautiful? Neat looking?" McKay looked at the two of them as if they only had one brain between them. "Do you have any idea what this means? I'm actually picking up increased energy readings when the jumper's lights shine against the surface. Whatever that is down there, it's capable of producing energy pretty quickly – like mini solar collectors, there for the taking. Can you imagine what will happen when this system's sun –"

"Could this," John gestured out of the view screen, trying to find the appropriate term, "effect have anything to do with why we got that alarm back on Atlantis?" It wasn't hard to guess that McKay's next logical move was going to be to want to take some of the granules back with them.

"Possibly . . . maybe . . . likely," McKay prevaricated. "Whatever. The benefits could be huge. We can put them in isolation canisters and then we would -" Rodney paused, then grunted. "That's odd."

"What's odd?" John wanted to know. If there was one thing he'd learned in the Pegasus galaxy, it was that odd was rarely anything good.

"The signal that raised the alarm on Atlantis is gone. It seems to have faded away - probably about the time the gate closed. Why would that happen?"

"Maybe the Ancients used it so that they'd know that there wasn't an atmosphere on the other side of the gate," Ford offered.

"Why would we not have received similar warnings previously?" Teyla asked.

"Maybe it was broken before?" Ford shrugged.

"Can you tell where the signal was coming from?" John asked.

"If I knew that, I would have told you by now. It seems to have come from everywhere at once – possibly refracted by the surface. Maybe with a few calculations . . . "

"Well, Sherlock." John called up a holographic representation of the moon as it orbited a gas giant. "While you're trying to solve that mystery, the rest of us are going to see about rescuing a MALP."

"Yes . . . why don't you . . . " McKay's voice showed that he had already mentally disconnected from the conversation.

"Major! Look!" Teyla's voice, edged with tension, was enough to draw him abruptly from his search for the missing equipment. He followed her gesture toward the right side of the view screen. At first he didn't see anything. Then, partially buried in the side of a rolling mound of moon dust, two sides of a hexagonally shaped building came into view. He had to blink to be sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. Obligingly, the onboard computer selected the area and displayed a magnified image for them all.

"Rodney, any -"

"I'm on it," McKay replied before he could complete the question. This time the soft beeps were in rapid-fire succession.

"It looks kind of like a buried fort," Ford said as he took in the translucent image. "But why would you put a fort on the moon in the middle of nowhere? It doesn't look like it has much protection. And there doesn't seem to be any life on the planet."

John couldn't disagree with him, and even with an untrained architectural eye he had a distinct suspicion that the Ancients had something to do with this building.

"I'm picking up extremely low level energy readings," McKay said, "almost too low to be read on the scale. They were practically undetectable against the background energy of the moon surface. If we didn't know where to look our instruments would have completely missed it."

"So what you're saying is that it sounds like someone was maybe trying to hide it?" John asked?

"Oh, I'd say definitely."

"And maybe we should check it out?" John's tone was deliberately leading. "For purely tactical and scientific purposes, of course."

"Oh, absolutely. Of course." Rodney agreed quickly, a smug smile lighting his features.

Teyla looked at them. "Are we not due to return to Atlantis within a short time frame after retrieving the machine?"

"There is plenty of time," John assured her. "We're just going to drop in low for a quick look around, then we'll grab our MALP and go home." His shrug clearly asked 'what could be easier?'. But Teyla didn't look convinced; obviously she didn't yet understand the relationship between men and abandoned forts.

"Major," McKay interrupted the 'trust me' look John was attempting to use on Teyla. "Does that look familiar to you?"

John turned back to the screen and dropped all pretense that their mission remained the same.

(to be continued tomorrow)


	2. Be Careful Out There

CHAPTER TWO - BE CAREFUL OUT THERE

"Be careful." Dr. Elizabeth Weir's parting words followed Jumper One as it disappeared into the event horizon once again. She repeated them again silently to herself as the rippling blue winked out and a team of scientists moved in on the MALP that remained.

When she had first learned of the possibility of leading a team of scientists to Atlantis she had been beyond thrilled – it was a dream come true. Of course, she had known that there would be risks; she had been involved in the Stargate project long enough to know that things sometimes went wrong. But out here, in the Pegasus galaxy, wrong took on a much more ominous tone. There were no powerful allies to back them up; there wasn't even a supply line to replace things that they'd previously taken for granted.

That Major Sheppard's team had found a structure that seemed to have been built by the Ancients, combined with McKay's discovery of a potential new energy source should have filled her with hope. Instead, taken along with the strange alarm, she found the situation mildly disturbing.

Grodin had uncovered a text related to the system the alarm had activated and managed to mute the audible portion of the signal. But when Jumper One had activated the gate after having been gone for less than twenty minutes, the city's systems had again reacted. She needed answers as to why, and she needed them right away.

"What's happening?" Rodney demanded impatiently from the seat directly behind Sheppard. They were on approach to the hexagonal shape and there was no response in the louvered circle in the side of the building. On Atlantis, the docking bay doors would have long since opened.

The shuttle closed a few more meters and still nothing. This was all taking far too long. Worse, Rodney was torn between potential projects and at present left to twiddle his thumbs, unable to work on any of them.

His mind flitted to the odd alarm back on Atlantis. That Grodin had discovered a text was terrific, but they'd only been able to understand one in ten of the words it contained – if they could even be called words. Someone needed to get to work translating it. Rodney knew he was the best man for the job. It was the price he paid for being the most universally necessary member of the expedition.

But, to add insult to injury, there was the matter of the photo-electric granules that he'd discovered. It had been all he could do to turn them and the MALP over to Zelenka after the jumper had set down right in front of the gate. He'd gotten in as many instructions as he could while Markham and Stackhouse had come aboard as security back up.

And now, the grand daddy of them all was what looked like a perfectly preserved Ancient outpost, and they were stuck outside of the building like a bunch of inept tomb robbers.

"Major . . . ." Rodney reminded the Air Force officer that he hadn't answered his question, nor made any progress. There was far too much to be learned for them to keep dawdling around.

"I'm working on it, McKay," Sheppard responded and made an annoyed gesture with his hands. "On Atlantis the computers took control on approach – that isn't exactly happening here."

Rodney released an exaggerated sigh. "Do I have to remind you of everything? Remember Ancient technology usually has a telepathic component."

"How could I forget?" Sheppard shot back after making a motion on the control panel with his hand. The jumper rose up and away from the surface and began a wide arc.

"What are you doing?" Rodney demanded, a sudden worrying thought entered his mind. Surely the man was going to blast their way into the docking bay. That could cause all sorts of problems. Besides, if the docking process was different from that of Atlantis, that was important information and needed to be recorded.

"I'm taking another pass if you don't mind," John replied to his question. "I want to try something a little different this time."

"Are you sure that you were thinking the right things? What are you concentrating on?" Rodney wanted to know although he had to admit that it was a rare case when Sheppard didn't beat them all hands down on managing the mental component of Ancient tech.

"It's pretty damned difficult to concentrate on anything when you keep distracting me," John shot back.

"Fine," Rodney responded, miffed that the major had a point. Holding back a burning comment, he resigned himself to observing the energy fluctuations on his hand held device.

John tried to put all else out of his mind as the jumper slowly approached the side of the building. He allowed it to continue until it was hovering within a foot of what they thought to be the entrance. The dark slate colored doors filled the view screen and remained stubbornly closed.

_Open sesame_, he tossed the thought toward the door irreverently. Still nothing.

But as he sat there staring at the surface, an inkling of a thought began in the back of his mind.

"Major. If you – "

John startled physically. "Rodney!" He spun toward the impatient scientist. "Would you cut that out, please!"

Rodney mumbled something under his breath and then sank back into silence.

"Thank you," John said, and blew out a breath to release pent up tension as he turned back to the viewer. The doors remained mockingly motionless. Resettled in the seat, he studied the portion of the building before them. There had to be a way in.

The location was remote, and didn't appear to have much in the way of defenses – no shield had prevented them from approaching. The only real thing in the location's favor was that it partially hid the building beneath those strange bits of moon sand, which also served to hide the base from scanning equipment. The only other security measures that he thought the Ancients might have taken, were gene related. Since only someone with the gene could fly a jumper, then logically a jumper should be allowed in. So why the hell wasn't this working?

But maybe . . . . Something tickled at the back of his mind, and he found himself allowing his eyes to drift closed. He focused mentally on the door, visualized it there in front of him. He could almost feel the cool surface against his palm. He imagined it opening at his touch just as any door on Atlantis might, only the image in his mind had a hazy, far away feel to it.

The hazy-ness began to coalesce into a filmy form. It was round-ish with a diamond shape in the middle and something that might have been . . .

"You did it!"

Ford's voice broke his concentration and his eyes flew wide. The reality of the bay doors in the process of rotating open seemed almost harsh to his corneas. He blinked and focused at the shadowy darkness beyond.

"I did do it!" John replied, astonished. The jumper began to move forward of its own accord, its lights revealing the outline of narrow walls on both sides and a more solid one dead ahead.

"Hooray for you," Rodney commented insincerely. "Now if you could share what you did, for the record?"

"I took your advice and thought good thoughts." John couldn't resist replying as the jumper began to descend into what he figured was the jumper bay proper.

"Really? Good thoughts? What good thoughts exactly?"

"Good thoughts that involved complete silence and no nagging astrophysicists."

"Ha. Very funny. See my cracking up."

John rolled his eyes. "I just visualized the doors opening and they opened," John shrugged – it was no big deal. He'd never admit to feeling a little dazed by the fact that his efforts had worked. Despite all of the systems he'd touched and concentrated on and thought at after his arrival in the Pegasus galaxy, there had been something very different about the way that bay door had responded to him.

"That's all?" Rodney asked.

"That's all." John kept his expression neutral.

"Well, that's . . . good to know." Rodney seemed disappointed.

"Don't worry, Rodney. We'll let you do the next one," John teased.

"Wow. Gee. Thanks." Rodney replied. "My heart's all a flutter." Then, without pausing for a change of thought, "Does this column seem longer than the one on Atlantis?"

A heads up display appeared before them. John couldn't be sure if it was Rodney's thought or his own that caused it. "I'd say a lot longer," John agreed after getting a look at the readings.

"So we are currently beneath the surface?" Teyla questioned.

"Way beneath the surface," John confirmed.

"I wonder why?" Rodney voiced the question thoughtfully just as the jumper seemed to clear the column and enter into what appeared to be a much smaller version of Atlantis' jumper bay. It looked to be capable of docking two jumpers. One of the bays was occupied.

"I wonder if anyone is home," John countered.

"There are no signs of life," Rodney said. "What would make you think –." He broke off just about the time John figured he looked up and out of the view screen. "Oh . . . ."

"Yeah – oh."

"I wonder if it's any different from ours," Ford put in.

"Why would it be any different?" Rodney responded.

"Well, because they left it here alone." Ford stood his ground.

"Actually that's a pretty good point," Rodney admitted. "The Atlantis gate is the only one that led back to Earth. And presumably any Ancient would have been able to fly a jumper – so why would they have left it behind?"

"Well, why don't we find out," John suggested, activating the command to open the rear hatch. All indications showed that there was breathable air outside, and they'd find no answers to any of their questions as long as they remained in the jumper.

"Markham, Stackhouse," John called as he headed toward the ramp. "Stay with the jumper." He made a small gesture toward the other vessel that was parked beside them. "Both of them. We'll maintain open radio contact and check in every twenty minutes."

"Yes sir," the two young men replied, as Sheppard and his team started toward the only exit they could see.

(to be continued tomorrow)


	3. Suprise, Surprise

CHAPTER THREE – SURPRISE, SURPISE, SURPRISE

Ford fell into place in their usual formation as they made their way along the dim corridors. Major Sheppard was first. While his P-90 wasn't quite up and ready, it was in a guard position so that he could aim and shoot in an instant if he needed to. Dr. McKay followed Sheppard, but was too wrapped up in what was showing on his computer to pay attention the security side of things. Teyla moved along just ahead of Ford.

Lights continued to illuminate in what seemed like a random pattern as they made their way along a corridor that Ford figured wound partially around the perimeter of the building. It reminded him of the way Atlantis had woken up on their arrival, but in this place it seemed a little different. More stark . . . eerie even.

The corridor that they had been following dead-ended at a set of triple doors that looked like a cross between some of the fancier ones in the city and blast doors. A control panel was set in the wall to one side. It was completely dark.

McKay stopped in front of it and, after looking at his scanning device, waved his hand before the dark surface. When nothing happened after a second, he laid his hand on it.

"Can you read this, McKay?" Sheppard asked from the other side of the doors which contained a plaque with some sort of symbol on it.

McKay didn't even bother to look up. "Maybe after I've figured out why nothing is happening when I try to open this door."

"What do you mean 'nothing's happening'?" Sheppard moved away from the plaque and closer to the panel. "Nothing's happening like it isn't getting power or nothing's happening like you don't know why nothing's happening?"

"What does it matter?" McKay snapped. "It isn't working. The only door from the jumper bay leads here! If we don't get past these doors we don't go any farther."

"So fix it already so we can get inside." The major was trying to be reasonable.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" McKay flashed back as he palmed the panel again, before looking at the hand held energy device. "Although it isn't quite so simplistic as you seem to think, Major. But, as usual, this problem, too, I shall solve."

"It looks like all you're doing is the same thing over and over again. Are you sure you're thinking the right things?" Sheppard threw McKay's words back at him.

Ford shared a look with Teyla and fought to hold back a snicker. As far as he was concerned, McKay had it coming.

The doctor shot Sheppard a withering look before displaying his device again. "This says that this panel is getting power – it should be working just fine, but it clearly isn't. Now, while I would love to stand here and discuss the intricacies of . . . ."

Sheppard stepped closer to the panel and touched it. The screen lit up immediately. McKay's jaw dropped open and for several moments he seemed speechless.

"Works fine," Sheppard said while the doors began to silently rotate inward.

"W-wait a minute. What did you do that was different than what I did?"  
McKay wanted to know.

Sheppard shrugged with a smug grin. "I just touched it. It likes me better."

"We both have the ATA gene. So why did it open for you and not for me?" McKay's tone was almost pitiful and Ford had to roll his eyes.

To Ford's surprise, instead of teasing the doctor further, Sheppard's voice became more serious. "I don't know, but I'm sure there's a reason for it. You'll figure it out."

McKay collected himself. "Of course I will. There's probably something in the database. Maybe it has something to do with the function of this place. Whatever that is."

Ford shook his head as he and Teyla followed the two older men into the room.

John stepped into the room and the first thing that caught his attention was the chair. It sat in a far corner of the large open area and while very similar to the chair in Antarctica, there were some stand out differences – like the raised neck rest along the back. Beyond the chair, the wall was covered with controls and knobs that reminded John oddly of an Atlantean version of old style main frame computers. So much for the place having no defenses.

As everyone began to fan out, he noticed other things about the room. Like doors set into the walls at intervals. Then there was the console that McKay made a bee-line for. "This is a DHD," he announced. He touched one of the buttons and it immediately lit and stayed lit. "And it even works. . . ." he murmured thoughtfully.

_. . . for me._ The words rattled through John's brain, but he didn't let them out. He knew that being ignored by the tech had been disturbing to the other man.

"Why would there be a DHD here when there is no Stargate?" Rodney continued, examining the intricacies of the device.

"For communications?" John offered.

"Yes – very good, Major," Rodney replied, wagged a finger and switched into lecture mode. "This was clearly meant to be an outpost of some sort. This is the first room we've come to and it has the look and feel or a laboratory or maybe a control room. This way they would be able to communicate with Atlantis if need be."

"Why wouldn't they just use the jumper?" Ford asked.

"Usually you have to be closer to activate the gate," McKay replied. "The docking bay would be too far away. Besides, why would you want to go all the way out to the jumper for communications? What if the jumper wasn't there? This DHD has special range."

No, 'maybe it has special range', no 'I'm guessing it has special range', just a good old Rodney McKay intuitive leap that said this DHD was different. John could find no reason to disagree with him. "Mystery solved then," he announced.

"Let's check the rest of this place out. Rodney, why don't you see if you can get into the database? Teyla, check out the rest of this room," he gestured toward the many consoles arranged around the room. "Ford, you're with me. We're going to find out where some of these doors lead."

The first door along the wall had a control panel of its own, much like the one outside of the large room, and it opened easily when John touched the panel. They stepped through into a small, dimly lit passageway. Light reflected from alcoves set on both sides of the passage, but the nearer alcove seemed to be set off from the rest. Because it was closer, John decided that he would explore that one first.

"I'll check this one," he told Ford, as he stepped inside and gestured ahead. "You get the next one."

"Yes, Sir." Ford moved off.

As he took another step inside of the alcove, John was immediately reminded of one of those booths that they used to have at the mall where kids would pile inside, feed it with money and pose while it snapped a steam of pictures. Only, this wasn't a sit-down booth, it was the stand up variety.

As he looked upward at the smooth metal walls he saw a familiar image engraved. It was the same one that had been outside of the door leading into the lab. It was the same one that he was half afraid to admit that he'd seen in his mind when he'd tried to gain entry into the docking bay. He reached upward, and ran his fingers over the surface of the raised marking, disturbed further by the hint of emotion it evoked in him. A feeling . . . kinship . . . a shadow of . . . .

He turned away abruptly, determined this time that he would get McKay to translate it. But at he spun, what he saw before him had him unconsciously bringing his P-90 up. His finger was pressing into the trigger when he caught himself, barely averting disaster.

"Ford!" he called to his comrade. "Get in here! McKay, Teyla, you, too!" He let his P-90 drop and moved closer to the transparent surface that was built into the wall, drawing back at the last minute before he touched it. On the opposite side of the clear glass enclosure was a man. His hair was longish blonde, and his lined features were gaunt, faintly emaciated.

"Is he dead?" Ford appeared suddenly behind him having squeezed into the space.

"What is it? Did you find something?" Rodney and Teyla skidded to a halt outside of the alcove before John had a chance to respond.

John drew out his life signs detector without removing his gaze from the man's frozen features. He moved it up to eye level to check its monitor. His heart skipped a beat at the dim new blip on the small screen. "I don't think so," he extended the life signs detector in the other man's direction. In the same moment there was the startling hiss of released air.

"Something is happening," Ford said, pointing at a portion of the wall that began to move outward, outlining a eight foot rectangle around the man. It swung toward them and John took a slow, careful step backward.

He watched in wide-eyed amazement as the door completed its arc, coming to a stop with a muted mechanical thunk. Time seemed suspended for the span of a heart beat while the man remained, fully exposed to their eyes except for a thinning swirling of mist. A deep shuddering breath broke the silence and then the man wilted forward.

John unconsciously took a protective step toward him, and managed to do little more than break his fall.

"This can't be good," was all that John could think to say as he struggled his way out from under the dead weight.


	4. Well, We Found This Frozen Guy

CHAPTER FOUR: WELL, WE FOUND THIS FROZEN GUY . . .

"Anything more?" Elizabeth glanced at the information scrolling across Peter Grodin's computer screen. Much of the text was in Ancient, and while some of the combinations of symbols looked familiar – one couldn't avoid them if one worked in the city – there were others that seemed strange.

"We've put them through every decoder program we have, and still we haven't been able to make much sense of it," Grodin replied. "I'm beginning to wonder if perhaps it isn't at least partially encoded."

"You mean like some sort of scrambled message?" The thought was intriguing. "But why only scramble a portion – most especially the most important sections?"

"Earth governments and corporations do it all the time?" Grodin offered.

"Good point." Elizabeth agreed. "So, aside from the fact that the message was meant for Atlantis, we don't know anything – not even if the scrambling was intentional."

"That's the size of it."

"Well, keep at –"

The sudden activation of the gate and the resulting alarms cut Elizabeth off mid-sentence. _This is beginning to be a bit of a habit_ she thought as one of the other control room techs declared an unscheduled activation. The warning was followed by the appearance of the imploding water effect and then the shield snapped into place.

"Atlantis, this is Jumper One. We have a medical emergency," McKay's urgent voice echoed into the control room.

"Lower the shield," Elizabeth immediately ordered, her frown the only outward sign of worry. She then moved toward a console and activated an outgoing communication. "Rodney? Where's Major Sheppard?"

"Long story," McKay spat back. "No time to discuss it right now. Just have Beckett on standby in the jumper bay. Tell him to prepare for symptoms of shock, maybe malnutrition. We--"

_Shock? Malnutrition?_ "Dr. McKay, what's going on? Is Major Sheppard the one that's injured?"

"No, he –"

"Flight, _this_ is Jumper One," Sheppard's voice ricocheted into the room, cracking with static. "We're going to be following Jumper _Two _in."

Elizabeth did a mental double-take. There were no other teams out in jumpers; all of the ships were accounted for. But before she could respond, McKay's voice sounded again.

"What? What do you mean you're Jumper One? How can you be Jumper One when my jumper is entering the gate before yours?"

"Because I'm always Jumper One," Sheppard shot back.

"What? Like you're the president or something?"

"Exactly," Sheppard agreed.

"Gentlemen, focus," Elizabeth cut in warningly. "Now, I need to know who is injured and I need to verify that there are indeed two complete, individual, jumpers coming through the gate."

McKay spoke first. "Well, that's relative as there's some assembly required. But yes, essentially, there are two jumpers – one of which is coming through the gate. Now."

A typical Rodney response. Elizabeth closed her eyes and rubbed at a temple. "Good, that's one question down. Now, Major Sheppard, who's injured?"

Her question was followed by several long moments of silence. She could almost picture the look of discomfort on Sheppard's face and that was more troubling than the few facts she had. Sheppard's reluctant voice sounded just as Jumper One . . . two . . . whichever appeared through the event horizon and began it's automated climb upward toward the bay.

"Well, we found this frozen guy . . . ."

Despite the number of bizarre situations they'd experienced since arriving in the Pegasus galaxy, Elizabeth still found she was having difficulty wrapping her mind around the major's statement. "Say again?"

"I'm no medical doctor," McKay's voice arrived again, "But the term 'frozen' is probably something of a mis-statement. He was more in a state of suspended animation – a lot like you, actually. Well, the alternate you. You know from when –"

"She knows what you're talking about." Sheppard's jumper had appeared through the Stargate as well and the static remained a part of his communication. As it began its ascent into the bay, she switched off the console and traded the more public communication for the privacy of an earpiece radio.

"Dr. Beckett and his team are on the way," Peter informed her. "He's requesting that the team stay in the jumpers until he arrives."

"Good idea. You're all to remain in the jumpers once you're docked." She relayed Peter's message as she headed out of the control center. She didn't intend to actually enter the bay until Beckett cleared it, but she could get close and have a word with the doctor once she was there.

"We're being quarantined?" Rodney sounded disbelieving and his response all but drowned out the sound of displeasure from Sheppard. "Why? If we'd brought some deadly contaminate back, the city would have certainly caught it. We did just come from an obviously Ancient constructed outpost, after all. The place was a sterile as a clean room."

"We can't be sure of that, Rodney." Elizabeth tried to smooth his ruffled feathers. "Carson is just trying to do his job."

"Well, he needs to hurry up at it because this guy isn't looking so good - not that he was at any time before in our limited acquaintance, mind you. It's just that I'd hate for him to oh, you know, expire right here in the jumper bay while we wait for medical science to catch a clue."

"Dr. McKay, calm down." Elizabeth tried again.

"Do you have any idea what we could have here? It's quite likely that this man is an Ancient. He's been frozen for who—"

"Suspended. . . ." Sheppard put in helpfully over the link.

There was the barest pause before Rodney continued. ". . . suspended, for who knows how long – but certainly much longer than we've been around. We need to talk to him, discover what he can tell us about the city, learn what he knows about that outpost. The number of ways that his knowledge could –"

"Rodney, I get all of that. But we still have to exercise caution." She reached the outer area of the jumper bay right behind Beckett and his team. They were kitted out in full contamination gear.

"Right you are, lass," the Scotsman's seemingly disembodied voice said from behind the clear mask. "And I knew Rodney wouldn't be too thrilled with the idea. Now, you stay out here and let me team get to work."

"Dr. McKay," Carson's voice joined their radio group. "Where's our patient?"

"Does this mean I dare to open the ramp?" Rodney asked with dripping sarcasm.

"Tis necessary if we're to come in, now isn't it?" Carson replied.

Elizabeth listened in as Rodney started in on Beckett with the same arguments he'd used on her. Within minutes McKay had dragged the medical doctor over to his way of thinking. She entered the docking bay just as the med team was wheeling their way out.

The blonde-haired man in the mobile isolation unit drew her attention. He was wrapped in blankets, an oxygen mask had been placed over his face and it looked as if someone had already put an IV in.

"How's he doing?" She moved alongside Beckett to ask.

"Difficult to tell." The answer, thrown back over his shoulder was distracted and rushed. "I'll know more after I examine him."

"Keep me advised," she told him.

"Aye." And Atlantis' newest inhabitant and the med-team were gone.

With the smallest of sighs, she turned back toward the two newly docked jumpers. The team was starting to straggle out. The new jumper, though identical to the others in the bay, caught her attention by virtue of its having been settled in one of the typically empty spaces. The hatch was closed.

She looked around, confused. "Where's Major Sheppard?"

"He was in the . . . ." McKay's response died away when he looked toward the new jumper. With a perturbed expression, he tapped at his radio.

Inside the jumper, Sheppard stared uncomprehendingly at the image that flashed across the screen. He reached for the manual ramp release again and still nothing.

"Major, please feel free to come out any time now." Rodney's voice sounded in his ear. "We are no longer under quarantine, in case you missed the memo."

"I got it," Sheppard replied, unable to keep annoyance out of his tone. "Unfortunately, the ramp controls aren't working. I think there's something wrong with this jumper."

"It passed the diagnostics with flying colors. Did you try the secondary cockpit release?"

John turned in his chair and tried to aforementioned switch. "Of course I did." He hit it again. "Twice."

"And you're getting no response at all?" Rodney asked, a small amount of unease entering his voice.

"Not unless you count the weird display that's showing up on the viewer. I don't remember _asking_ it to come on."

"What does it say?" Rodney questioned.

"Sorry – left my Ancient to English dictionary in my other jacket."

"Right. Well, did you try blowing the hatch?"

"Well, that would have been my third guess, but you might want to stand back out of the way."

There was some minor shuffling, then, "All clear."

John moved closer to the rear door and lifted the release. He wasn't entirely comfortable with blowing the back door off of a 10,000 year old shuttle, but he was even less comfortable with being stuck inside of one.

"Blowing the hatch," he announced before pulling down the lever. There was a half second of silence, and then the inside of the jumper went completely dark, followed by the ominous sound of something winding down.


	5. Er You Want to Do What?

CHAPTER FIVE: ER . . . YOU WANT TO DO WHAT ?

Ford scooted back out of the way as more scientists entered the bay in an attempt to get the jumper to open. They seemed to have been at it for hours, and the longer the major remained stuck in that jumper, the stronger Ford's need to do something grew. Earlier on he'd suggested that they wire the back of the ramp with explosives while Sheppard took up position in the cockpit behind the blast doors, but McKay had shot him down. The 'we'd like to keep the jumper bay intact, thank you' still rang in his ears.

Now Aiden sat, his gear beside him, and watched the loudest scientist pace back and forth while arguing with Grodin who was up in the control room.

"What do you mean you still can't connect to the jumper? It's been nearly an hour, Peter. What have you been doing? It's essentially the same system that you work with everyday."

"That's just it, Rodney," Grodin's disembodied voice came back across the radio link. "It isn't. There are subtle differences in the systems that we still don't understand. You said yourself that this particular jumper was preprogrammed to fly back to Atlantis on its own – Major Sheppard was just along for the ride."

"Yes," McKay argued. "But it is still like the other jumpers. Virtually identical, in fact. I ran the quick diagnostic myself before we left. Atlantis even treated it like the rest of the jumpers in that it brought it in and landed it here in the jumper bay. It had to connect to do that. Why don't you try it from that angle? Do I have to suggest everything?"

"Apparently you must," Grodin replied and cut the radio link.

"Humph." Rodney sniffed, and turned and looked around at the gathered group. "Zelenka? Radek Zelenka, where are you?" Not seeing the man in question, he tapped his radio. "Radek where are you on the ventilation system? Do I need to. . . ?"

Ford zoned out the rest of what McKay said and tapped his radio to a different frequency. "How're you doing in there, Sir?"

John sat on the floor in the near complete darkness of the jumper, his back against one of the benches in the passenger section. His flak jacket and uniform shirt lay on the bench in deference to the gradual increase of the air's temperature. Heat rises – or so they said; in the stagnant air of the jumper he wasn't convinced much of anything was moving.

Scrubbing an arm across a dampening brow, he wondered how much longer it'd be before he received the next set of instructions from McKay. During the past hour or so, he had opened enough panels and swapped enough control chips that he was starting to feel like a member of the science team. Normally that wouldn't be too horrible, except that he was also the guinea pig that was locked in the warm and stuffy maze.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the heat or the headache that was still plaguing him. It had helped some to switch his radio to standby so that he didn't have to hear Rodney arguing with some of the others; he was feeling irritable enough on his own, but what he wouldn't give for a couple of aspirin. Another item to add to the list of negatives surrounding their newly acquired jumper – no government-issue first aid kit, complete with both Tylenol and aspirin. At least he had food and water – though, in his opinion, power bars were only marginally food.

His roving thoughts drifted inevitably back to their visit to that outpost. He still wasn't sure exactly what he'd seen and felt, and it was really beginning to bother him. The image of the diamond-in-circle came quickly to mind, even the lettering flashed clearly before his inner eye and he'd never made any claims to understanding any part of the Ancient's written language. Yet, its meaning seemed almost on the tip of his tongue.

The radio beeped in his ear and he slowly opened his eyes when he heard Ford's voice, asking how he was doing.

"Wishing I brought a book," was his drawled response. "What's going on out there? McKay still terrorizing the troops?"

Ford chuckled. "Something like that." His tone sobered. "It doesn't look like they're any closer, Sir, but I know Dr. McKay will come through with something before too long – he always does."

"As good a reason to hope as any," John replied. "Heard anything more on our frozen guy?" Even the thought of the cooling word seemed to make him want fresher surroundings all the more.

"Nah, he still hasn't woken up, yet. Beckett thinks he's going to be okay, though, as long as we can get some nourishment into him."

"Speaking of nourishment, it's got to be close to chow time. Have you been up to the mess hall yet?"

"No, Sir," Aiden replied. "We'll go together."

"You know how fast stuff goes, Ford. At least one of us should have something besides power bars for dinner. Maybe have someone bring back a little something for McKay, might make him a little less grumpy."

"Yes, Sir," Ford agreed half-heartedly.

John tapped his radio to close the connection, but it beeped again almost immediately.

"Major Sheppard?" Beckett's soft brogue echoed over his radio link.

"Yeah, Doc?" John replied. He was wondering how long it would be before a doctor with an MD behind his or her name would make an appearance. He could guess what the man wanted.

"How are you feeling there, son?" He got right to the point.

"Like I'm on a beach in a tropical paradise sipping something with an umbrella in it."

"Sounds nice," Beckett played along. "Wouldn't mind being there with you. Any headache or dizziness or nausea on this island of yours?"

John decided to level with him. "To be honest, I've had this headache since before this mission started and just the smell of myself perspiring for the past bit is making me nauseous. But, dizziness, no."

"Alrighty," Beckett seemed to catalog those answers. "You have some liquids with you, still?"

"Yes, I do. And I'm making sure to drink some every now and then."

"That's good to hear. But, Major, if you start to feel even the teensiest bit worst you're to let me know straight away."

John could almost see the finger that doctor would normally no doubt be waving in his direction. "Got it," he answered agreeably, and immediately linked over to McKay's radio.

"Rodney?" he called to the physicist.

"Yeah? What?" He sounded distracted and busy – but who was a Rodney McKay who didn't sound that way?

"Have we figured out how much air I have to work with here?" John asked. Earlier on, he hadn't been overly worried about the pesky little detail, but as time dragged on, his options were looking disturbingly slim.

"Oh, thank you," Rodney spoke in a lower tone to someone, then, "That's . . . uh . . . difficult to say since we don't know exactly when or if the . . . er . . . jumper stopped providing life support."

"So, how long is that exactly? You're a genius, I'm sure you can ball park it for me."

"Actually, I'd prefer not to waste my brain power on calculating numbers that are ultimately useless because we are going to get you out of there absolutely as soon as we can." His words were punctuated with the sounds of eating as he continued, "Surely you wouldn't want me to lose focus on the goal here."

"No, no, goal focusing is good." John pulled out a power bar just to be neighborly, and to return the favor of chomping in the other man's ear. "Guess I'll just have to figure out for myself. How many cubic feet of space would you say was in a jumper?"

"Since you seem to have so much energy, why don't you check out a couple of things for me. I've a theory where --"

"Tell me what you want me to do." John quickly put aside the power bar, grabbed his P-90 and turned on its light. He didn't care what McKay theorized about while chomping on whatever the swill for the day was, as long as it got him out of that jumper. He moved back toward the still lowered control panels and waited for instruction.

"I need you to try to take the jumper apart from your side."

Sheppard lowered the P-90 to his side thoughtfully. Then, "Giving up on science, McKay?"

"Hardly. Ever heard of the term 'reverse-engineering'?"

"Yeah, but what does that have to with me transforming that inside of this jumper into lots of little pieces?"

"Bear in mind that I didn't say to trash the thing, Major. Allow there to be some hope of it being put back together in future."

"Ha." John settled his P-90 so that it would shine light on the area he had chosen to work. "And leave you without a challenge? Where's the fun in that? Besides, you have other jumpers to compare to."

"Yes, however, you're -- Damnit!"

The exclamation sent adrenaline coursing through John's system and he immediately stopped what he was doing with the overhead panels. "What? Something wrong?"

"No – and that's the problem."

"Huh?" Sometimes McKay didn't make a whole lot of sense.

"The lack of the problem is the problem. How can I fix this ship if I can't figure out what's wrong with it? Every piece of equipment that we've found and figured out that can be used on a jumper has been brought here. We ran every test. We can't find the problem."

John shrugged and went absently back to work. "Maybe there isn't one to find. Maybe the jumper is working just the way that it's supposed to."

"But why?" Rodney asked. "Why would it suddenly shut down like --"

The ugly word came to them both at the same time. "Lock down." They said it in unison. Neither could forget the way that Atlantis had reacted when the systems thought that there was a known contaminant floating around the city.

Tense silence reigned for several long seconds. Then Rodney spoke. "There isn't anywhere that you might have gone alone. I went into the jumper with you the first time and I wasn't locked in. Neither were Ford, Teyla, Markham, Stackhouse or the suspended animation guy for that matter. That can't be it."

John only felt marginally better, a gnawing unease reared its head. "There is something that might be different about me," he said, reluctant though he was to voice his concerns.

"Would that be your glowing personality?" Rodney asked.

"No. I was thinking more along the lines of seeing things." The words were spoken quietly. He could almost hear the sound of the doors shutting on the padded cell with his name on it.

McKay, in typical fashion, stumbled over the reply, not certain how to treat the admission. "What sort of things did you see?"

"I saw . . . ." The image flashed up into his mind on demand, and then, quite unexpectedly, the room listed to the left. He threw out a hand, and braced himself against the wall. After a moment the spell eased and he settled gingerly down on to one of the bench seats.

"Major! Major Sheppard!" He began to register Rodney's increasingly panicky voice calling to him.

"Yeah," he mumbled, massaging his temples against the worsening headache. "I'm here."

"What happened? You faded out on me." Rodney's tone was almost accusing.

"No undue pressure or anything, but, if you don't get me out of here soon there's going to be one less person on Kavanaugh's crap list."

Elizabeth gazed down at the still form of the man who had been brought back through the gate by Sheppard's team. She had yet to get a clear picture of what had taken place on their mission. What with everything going on there hadn't been time for a decent debriefing.

The bags of IV fluids which hung from a pole at the bedside to run through thin tubes beneath the bedcovers as well as the wires which were connected to monitoring devices seemed oddly out of place given his origins.

As she looked at the man's thin features, she tried to gather up an image of another Ancient that her time-traveling counterpart had told her about. Despite having no real way of knowing what Janus had looked like, she still found herself comparing him to the man who lay on the bed. He had sounded like such a dynamic personality. She wondered vaguely if this man might have known him.

"Elizabeth, we have a problem." Rodney's voice in her ear drew her quickly out of her musings.

"What is it, Rodney?" She asked in as low a tone as she could manage, all the while moving out of the curtained off area where the patient lay.

"He's running out of air, and we're running out of options."

"What are you suggesting Rodney?" Elizabeth asked, for she knew that a suggestion had to follow that opening; one that she probably wasn't going to like.

"We might have to try Lt. Ford's suggestion." It was spoken quietly and more than a little reluctantly, but that didn't make her like it any better.

"You mean blow up the back of the jumper?" she asked. "Weren't you the one who argued against it. You said it would destabilize the docking station and possibly even send the jumper crashing down onto the lower level. That can't be good for anyone actually inside of the jumper when that happens."

"Yes," Rodney agreed. "Kind of like the egg in a box dropped on the floor scenario. Not a pretty sight But, if we calculate correctly, we can determine exactly how much explosive would be needed to blow the door just the way we want, and hopefully not send the jumper over the edge. It's risky, but it's all we've got as a backup plan when it gets down to the wire. And right now, the wire is pretty much staring us in the face."

"Like demolishing a skyscraper in the middle of a busy city."

"Exactly."

Elizabeth thought about it for all of two seconds, then, "First, we run this by Major Sheppard – he's the one at risk. Second, what do we need to do to prepare?"

"We need someone working on the calculations. . .."

"Peter?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Nah," Rodney objected, "Yamata and Jansen would be a better choice. I'd prefer to do this without blowing something up, and Peter's more familiar with the jumper's systems than they are."

"Fine. I'm on it."

Peter brought up yet another screen on his laptop, hoping that he'd see something that looked out of the ordinary. There had to be a reason the jumper was reacting the way that it was. It had gone completely dead as if its power source was depleted, but every test he attempted told him otherwise. The shuttle was not out of power, it had simply shut off and did not respond to communication attempts from the base computers.

He clicked methodically through each of his screens, hoping to see something that might lead him in a direction. He paused on one screen, staring at the complex signal that danced erratically across the screen. It was several moments before he remembered that it was the signal from so long ago when they'd initially opened the gate on world PX3-922. It appeared that the signal was still active.

He frowned. That signal had ceased when they'd closed the gate.

An edge of excitement flickered within him as he maximized the screen, determined to follow this clue wherever it might lead him.

John's hands slipped again on the bit of insulation. There was a growing pile of the stuff on the floor which on occasion swam hazily out of focus and then back in again. His breathing was altered, and his mind and body felt unequal to the task set before him.

"Yeah." The words were just slightly slurred as he responded to Dr. Beckett's voice over the radio. "M'here."

"We need you to go into the front of the jumper, Major," Beckett requested gently. "The ramp is all wired up and ready to go, so you'll need to manually close the bulkhead doors."

"Right. Got it. 'Bout damn time." He pushed himself up from the floor and made the journey toward the front of the ship. He had argued earlier, when the idea had been put to him, to go ahead and set the explosives. The thought of slowly suffocating to death wasn't high on his list of things to try. But the calculations and simulations had taken longer than expected, all the while Rodney had worked frantically trying to get into the jumper using his own methods. There were even several people trying to drill through portions of the hull near the view screen.

As he moved unsteadily forward, he noted that the drilling team was backing off. The faint blue light from their torches dimmed to darkness, leaving only the nearly non-existent ambient lighting of the jumper bay.

The area calculated to be the most safe was just behind the rear passenger seat. John half-stooped, half-fell onto the floor then assumed the position with his head down and his arms wrapped about his knees. It reminded him vaguely of natural disaster drills back in grade school. He felt just about as helpless now as he was then.

"Are you in position?" A voice asked.

"S'ready as I'm ever going to be," he said.

"Standby."

John tucked his head in and held on.

"Almost done, almost done, almost done," Rodney insisted, holding up a hand as he stared at his computer's display. Just a couple of more seconds and the simulation would be done, then, "damn!" He pounded a hand against the side of the ship. It hadn't worked.

Frustrated and, not a little frightened, he shut off the systems he'd been using and gathered them up from the left rear of the jumper where he had set up shop what seemed so many hours earlier.

"What are we going to do if this doesn't work?" Ford wanted to know.

"We don't have a choice," Rodney snapped. "This has to work."

Ford nodded as if he'd said something profound. "The charges are ready." He held out the radio control toward him.

Rodney looked down at it, a little stunned that he would be the one to push the button. What if it all went wrong? What if the calculations were off? What if he was the one who pushed the button that lead to the death of Major Sheppard? Could he live with himself?

"Dr. McKay, I think I have something." Peter Grodin's voice sounded in his ear.

_Oh thank God_. The words echoed through is mind as he turned away from the device and keyed his earpiece. "Yes, Peter. What is it?"

"I've discovered a signal emanating from the jumper on the same frequency as the original signal that we picked up when we initially activated the gate, only it's very different, much shorter in duration. It repeats every 97 seconds."

"Really? Why didn't we notice that before?" Rodney asked, his mind already going to work on what this could mean for getting John out of that ship.

"It is not one of the more common frequencies used by Atlantis or our equipment. The signal typically stopped after the gate was closed. I found it quite by accident, actually."

"So what you're saying," Rodney put in impatiently, "Is that you've been pursuing a cool tidbit of information but have no idea how to make it work to save Major Sheppard."

"Actually, I have an idea. I believe that the jumper is, as you suggested, in a form of lockdown, and is –."

"Waiting for the password." Rodney interrupted, already seeing where the other man was going. "Unfortunately, that password is at least 10,000 years old. If the city doesn't know what it is, we don't have a snowball's chance of figuring it out."

"There was odd data in the original signal. Some of it looked like it may have been encrypted . . . ."

Rodney understood right away. "Try sending the signal that came through the gate back to the jumper –"

"Already doing it," Grodin replied. "In a few more seconds we'll find out if it's worked or not."

Tense silence reigned as they all waited. When the low-pitched hum sounded, indicating that the jumper's systems were coming back online, it was as if everyone in the jumper bay released a breath.

The ramp began what seemed to be the world's slowest descent and Beckett was right there, ready to enter almost before it could settle against the floor. He and his team moved through in a near blur as Rodney put out a hand a leaned heavily against the side of the jumper.

He watched hazily as, moments later, the med team reappeared with an obviously groggy John Sheppard. Though conscious, he didn't fight the oxygen mask or the gurney they'd placed him on.

Rodney shifted uncomfortably as the prone man met his eye. There was a glimmer of expression there that Rodney was sure translated to a thank you. He didn't deserve it. He should have been able to figure the problem out long before now. As it was, it was nearly too late.

Turning away, he went about the task of packing up his equipment.


	6. Subject ZeroZeroZeroOne

CHAPTER SIX: SUBJECT 0-0-0-1

Elizabeth entered the infirmary and her attention was immediately drawn by the sound of voices arguing in low tones. It didn't take long to identify them – Carson Beckett and Rodney McKay.

Atlantis' CMO she'd expected – after all, he had an Ancient visitor under his care. Even when there were no 'garden variety' medical problems to be dealt with, the Scot could still usually be found in the sick bay, elbow deep in genetic research or perusal of medical texts in the city's databases.

McKay on the other hand, she would have thought to be off with Dr. Zelenka studying whatever new item they'd brought back from the moon, PX3-922, or quibbling with one of the other scientists about the translation of the message that they'd found earlier.

As she rounded the corner, she saw that it was Rodney who was doing most of the arguing. Carson, arms crossed, was shaking his head in staunch disagreement of whatever suggestion Rodney had made.

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth greeted quietly, sending a pointed look in both their directions, bringing their debate to an abrupt halt for all of 500 milliseconds. They immediately began to speak at once, trying to bring her to their side of an argument that she completely ignored.

"And how is Major Sheppard?" she asked, gesturing meaningfully toward the privacy curtain which shielded him from the rest of the medical bay. It was late, and she doubted that the men's argument was all that serious or they would have brought it to her already.

"He's sleeping. Out like the proverbial light." Rodney's response was rattled off first, no doubt in an effort to quickly get back to the point uppermost in his mind.

Carson's reply followed, heavy with aggravation. "Resting fairly well now that we've done away with _most _of his entourage." There was no mistaking the glare he shot in Rodney's direction. "I'm only keeping him overnight for observation. He'll be off and on his way in the morning if all goes well. I don't expect any problems."

She nodded, glad to hear that her instinct regarding the major's condition had been confirmed. Obviously Teyla and Ford had left with some coaxing from the Doctor, McKay on the other hand had stuck around. She wanted to know why, and judging purely by the way the astrophysicist impatiently waited for Beckett to finish speaking, he wanted to tell her.

"We need to wake him up," he told her.

Elizabeth shook her head, not certain she fully understood. "Wake who up?"

"The guy. Our visitor from the ancient outpost. John Doe. Subject zero-zero-zero-one – whatever you want to call him."

Ah, now she understood. She also understood that Carson didn't agree.

"We need to let the man regain consciousness in his own time. His body's gone through quiet a shock. Based on my examination, the days before he entered that stasis chamber were no picnic, let me tell you. There are even signs of a physical struggle. Aside from the dehydration, we found healing puncture wounds near the base of his neck. They were hidden by his hair earlier."

"Could it have happened during the war with the Wraith?" she asked.

"At this point anything is possible," Rodney interjected. "We won't know until we ask him."

"I don't want to rush it," Carson insisted. "While I don't think stimulants would endanger his life, I'd prefer not to introduce anything of the sort into his system right now."

"How long do you think it'll be before he wakes up on his own?" Elizabeth asked, striving to be the peacemaker, though she really couldn't disagree with Carson. .

"Difficult to say," Beckett responded, giving her little to work with. "We've hydrated him, and are trying to get his electrolyte levels back to what we _think_ is normal for his physiology. He's made remarkable progress, but it could be another hour or another day before he wakes up."

She turned to the other man. "I understand the potential for new understanding of the technologies here in the city, never mind basic information on the type of civilization the Atlanteans may have. I'm excited and curious, too. But surely it can wait another day."

"That's not it," Rodney shook his head, denying what had been her gut thought on his reasons for wanting to wake the other man.

"Really? What is?"

Rodney looked at Carson pointedly, before directing her toward the opposite side of the room. "Come with me."

"I told you the tests aren't complete, yet, Rodney," Carson argued softly as she followed, confused, as Rodney picked up a device from the counter and displayed it for her to see. It flashed with dots and arrows of differing colors. He continued walking, moving through the curtained off section which contained their visitor.

She watched, still not sure what he was trying to show her, as he quietly approached the sleeping man. He looked much the same as he had when she'd been standing in that same position hours earlier. Rodney carefully placed the hand held device atop the man's chest and stepped away. The little screen blanked into darkness.

He shot a telling look toward the both of them before retrieving the small machine, which lit up obediently and stepped away from the bedside and beyond the curtain. "I don't think we need to wait for the results, do you, Doctor?" Rodney said. "He doesn't have the gene. How do we know he's really an Ancient?"

Stunned, Elizabeth followed the two men back into the outer area of the medical bay. She'd never considered the thought that the man wouldn't be an Ancient. She'd never known any of the Atlantean devices not to work with those who had the gene naturally or had taken to the gene therapy, but she remembered one small item from the short debriefing that had taken place after Major Sheppard had been sent to the infirmary.

"Is it possible that this device doesn't work for everyone who has the gene?" Elizabeth phrased it as a question, knowing Rodney would get her meaning.

"I've had personal experience with devices not working _well_ with all people," Carson chimed in. "The chair, for example. Besides there is the possibility that the mental component may not work if the person is deeply unconscious as our patient is."

"What sort of mental component could there possibly be to a life signs detector?" Rodney argued. "It's pretty generic as far as Ancient tech goes. It's not like, say, a door such as the one on the outpost – which, since everything I tried to pull from the database there is garbled, we still haven't resolved the true reason why it didn't work the first few times we tried it."

"What door?" Carson wanted to know. Obviously, Rodney hadn't chosen to let him in on that bit of information.

"It doesn't matter," Rodney dismissed the question. "The point is – the Life Signs Detector is a simple piece of equipment. The puddle jumper is a highly advanced piece of technology. If he can't turn on a life signs detector, he can't fly a jumper, he can't operate half the equipment in that outpost. What was he doing there? We could be wasting our time and resources one someone who doesn't know anymore than we do."

"It might be a genetic aberration," Beckett argued. "He could even be a time traveler."

"Or one of the other races that were under the protection of the Ancients," Elizabeth added. But she was still unsettled by the questions Rodney's statement raised. "Have we been able to determine how long ago he was put into the chamber?"

"Ten thousand years, at least," Rodney answered the question. "Right about the time the city was abandoned."

"Are you sure?" She frowned.

"Pretty sure. Remember, the gate on that world will only dial Atlantis. According to the database, it's been just over 10,000 years since anyone dialed in from that gate. There isn't much else around in the vicinity."

"Admittedly, I don't know how old this gentleman was when he entered the chamber, but he looks a lot younger than my counterpart did."

Rodney looked uncomfortable. "Yes, well, we discovered something else. I went back through the data. Our diverting the power when we first arrived caused something of a 'brown out' situation in the chamber, and then our sending the lightning surge through the city created the opposite effect. The system wasn't designed for that type of stress while occupied. We think those . . . events may have affected the system."

Elizabeth was stunned for the second time in as many minutes. The possibilities . . . . What if they had realized sooner . . . . She shook herself, refusing to indulge in what might have been.

"She probably still would have been a lot older," Beckett jumped in. "Remember, Ancient physiology is different than ours. The chambers were made specifically for them. We really can't be completely certain of how much would have been normal aging for one of us."

"Of course," she nodded, thanking him for that bit of reassurance. Then, refocusing on the issue at hand, she made a decision.

"We wait and allow him to wake on his own. He isn't any less valuable as a person because he doesn't have the gene – if he doesn't have the gene. I'd like to wait and see what the test results tell us." With that, she nodded at both men and left the room, ignoring both Rodney's gasp of displeasure and Beckett's smug smile of approval.


	7. Come On, Let's Blow This Joint

CHAPTER SEVEN: COME ON, LET'S BLOW THIS JOINT

John strolled out of the infirmary, a free man, and nearly collided with a Rodney McKay who obviously hadn't slept enough to keep the glassy-eyed look at bay.

"Oh there you are, up and about. How are you feeling?"

John took in the positive tone, the barely contained impatience that hid just beneath the surface as the other man awaited a response. McKay clearly wanted something.

"I'm great," he responded, deciding to play along. "Slight headache, but on my feet. How are you?"

"Oh fine. Just fine." Rodney fell into step alongside him, and did the snap hand movement before asking innocuously, "Beckett release you back to duty?"

"Well, no marathon running, but yes, we're a go for light duty."

"Good, good." Rodney let another moment pass. "We need to go back."

"Yes we do," John agreed amicably, already knowing where Rodney meant. After the incident with the shuttle, though, John wasn't the one who would need convincing. "Why do _you_ think we need to go back?" he asked, for clarity.

"Well, I have a theory. Several actually – but I've been thinking about why the Ancients would have a one way gate, pass-coded jumper and a chair defense platform on a base in the middle of nowhere."

"So, is that what you've been up doing all night?" John asked. "Theorizing?"

"Of course," Rodney looked at him innocently. "What else would I be doing? In case you haven't noticed, this city could use some real defenses – no offense to your considerable military expertise."

"None taken. And yeah, that is one of its flaws," John acknowledged. "What about that moon dust you brought back? I thought it looked pretty promising as an alternate power source."

"It was . . . on the moon. But the sample started degrading almost immediately once we brought it through the gate. Which is yet another reason to go back. We need a fresh sample.

"And let's not forget the outpost itself. They must have been protecting something pretty special if Atlantis was the only way in or out."

"Good point." John lifted his brows, liking the idea. "We really didn't do much exploring the first time around. Sounds like a mission. Time for the hard part."

Rodney nodded in agreement. "Weir."

"Okay, we're here. Why isn't this working?" Rodney demanded as he stared through the view screen at the outpost's outer bay doors. Weir had agreed to the mission on the condition that someone other than Sheppard pilot the jumper. She had also sent along an additional team of four which included a medical sciences officer to study the stasis chamber.

"Just picture it opening," John told him from the co-pilot's seat. "That's all I did."

Rodney tried again, frustrated and annoyed that he couldn't make this work. It didn't help that they had an audience behind them. "Are you sure that . . . ." He glanced over toward Sheppard fully prepared to tell him what he thought of his inadequate instructions, but the words died on his lips when he saw that the Air Force officer had closed his eyes. His brow furrowed slightly as if in deep concentration, and then Rodney caught movement in his peripheral vision. The bay doors were opening.

Rodney's mouth dropped. "How'd you . . . ?"

John looked uncomfortable. "There's something really weird going on here." His voice was soft so that only Rodney could hear.

"Weird how?" Rodney let the ship go in on auto. Keeping his voice low as well.

Sheppard's discomfort seemed to grow as he spoke. "The last time I did . . . that," he gestured back at the bay doors, "I got this . . . feeling . . . and a funny image in my head. It just sort of floated into my mind. I saw that same image later outside of that lab – you know where the door wouldn't open for you. There was another one in the alcove with the stasis chamber thing."

Rodney stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. "Have you seen it since then?"

John swallowed. "Yeah. Just now. What do you think it means? Am I going crazy here?"

Rodney took in the barely disguised worry in the other man's gaze. He often forgot that the Stargate program was all new to the major. The Pegasus galaxy and being a carrier of an Ancient gene that allowed him to use advanced technology probably exacerbated the situation.

Yet, despite all of that, Sheppard was the very last person he expected to lose it. He'd held it together as a Wraith-tic had tried to suck the life out of him while stuck in a wormhole that was going to turn them all to so many atomic parts in 38 minutes or less. He'd even willingly allowed his heart to be stopped. That was courage in Rodney's book.

And then suddenly, amid his musings, it all made sense. "It's imprinting on you," he said, excitedly. It explained everything. Even the door.

"What?" Obviously, that hadn't been the answer John had been expecting.

"Like the personal shield," Rodney tried to explain. "It only worked for me, remember? It was imprinted. You're probably the first person with the gene who's been here in millennia. The system imprinted on you, making you like a . . . a. . . caretaker of sorts."

Rodney felt a smile working its way over his face, glad to know that he wasn't somehow lacking in the ancient gene department. "You've been selected as the caretaker. Perfectly reasonable if this outpost really is some sort of secure facility."

"Right," John nodded, obviously not sure he liked the idea. "Hopefully full of the Atlantean version of James Bond type toys."

"Precisely."

"So, how do we find these special weapons that we're hoping are stashed around here someplace?" John asked fifteen minutes later when they'd gained entry to the lab once again. Everything remained just as they'd left it.

"If all else fails, we try the chair," McKay said, already headed to a console where he'd earlier connected in an attempt to download data.

"Fair enough," John acknowledged then turned toward the other four individuals who were along for the mission. "Ford, Teyla, why don't you show Henry and Erickson where the stasis chamber is then conduct a little recon? Check in every ten minutes, sooner if you find anything unusual." They knew the drill.

"Yes Sir," Ford replied alongside Teyla's silent nod of agreement. Henry and Erikson followed the two through the same door that they'd used previously.

John watched them go, and then began perusing the lab on his own. Rodney, leaning over his lap top was too engrossed to pay much attention to what he was up to.

Sheppard made a complete circuit of the room, resisting the urge to go through any of the other doorways that led off of the main area. He didn't want to leave Rodney alone in the lab. Things tended to go wrong on a fairly regular basis and he had no desire to tempt fate.

Idly, he reached into his vest and withdrew the life signs detector. One could never be sure since things like bodies in stasis and hibernating Wraith tended not to show up on the device.

He was glad though to discover that there were only 8 life blips showing. Markham and Stackhouse remained on the edge of the detectors field as they were back at the jumper – the only jumper in the bay. Two other blips weren't quite so far out. He figured them to be Henry and Erikson checking out the chamber.

The other two, aside from he and McKay, which were moving away from all of the other dots, were no doubt Ford and Teyla, scouting the place as he'd ordered.

"Find anything yet?" he called over to Rodney.

"It's still garbled," Rodney complained, looking down at the monitor in frustration. "Maybe it's pass-coded as well."

"Maybe it's me?" John offered.

"Yeah. Good point. Come try something for me." He directed John toward the side of the console where a series of tiny crystals were arranged in geometric patterns. "Touch here, there and then there."

John watched the demonstrated motion and then did as he was asked. There was an immediate subtle change to the console and Rodney's face brightened. "That did it! Perfect."

John was nudged out of the way and immediately forgotten as Rodney retook his position in front the console. He was again at loose ends, having no assignment other than security. He didn't particularly care to touch much of anything in the lab. With a gene that tended to turn unknown devices on, he had more than learned his lesson.

"Ford, how are things going with you and Teyla?" He keyed the radio and did the ten minute check in with his reconnaissance team.

"After that first section, the corridors are starting to slant down again," Ford said. "But it looks we may be leveling off. I'd estimate that we're possibly forty feet below the level of the lab."

"Roger that. Keep on moving." John left his second in command to his job.

"Drs Henry and Erikson? Are things all clear where you are?" he spoke to the other men who had been sent along. They weren't under his command, but he was responsible for their safety.

"We're taking readings still, Major," one of the men, Henry, explained. "This chamber really isn't all that different from the ones in the city."

"All right. Do you think three more hours is going to give you enough time to do what you need to do?" He reminded them of the relatively short time they'd been allowed for the mission.

"We'd really like to check out some of the other alcoves in this area – but yeah, we'll work with what we've got."

"Good man," John signed off, then checked in with Markham and Stackhouse.

"All clear here, Sir," was the response.

_Great._ John left his radio open as he did another visual sweep of the lab. His gaze settled on Rodney who communed with supreme concentration with his lap top. Nothing to do there.

"I'm going to try to the chair," he announced and headed for the device. The chair back in Antarctica had been very easy to use – almost like making silent wishes. It was even fully equipped with extragalactic star charts. Surely this chair should have some sort of schematic of the outpost. Maybe that way he could speed up their search – be home in time for supper with at least enough evidence to convince Weir to allow a longer investigation.

"Okay. . . Yeah. . . go ahead." Rodney only half-turned in acknowledgement.

John made a face as he stepped up onto the chair's platform then settled carefully into the ornate seat. A weapon of such power was something to be respected. It immediately reclined, as Antarctica's chair had, and John sensed more than saw that certain segments glowed blue indicating that the chair was primed and ready.

"Major! I think we've found something." Ford's voice sounded over the radio.

"What is it?" John asked, breaking his concentration away from the chair to talk to Ford.

"A body, Sir. Or at least what's left."

That got John's attention completely. "A body? What the hell happened?" he asked, hoping the young officer would have some idea by simply checking out the surroundings. But before Ford could respond there was a sharp clank that made John blink in stunned surprise.

A buzzing started fast on its heels. By the time he realized something was going on with those big mainframes surrounding the chair, his body was no longer his own and it was much too late.


	8. In the Still of the Night

CHAPTER EIGHT: IN THE STILL OF THE NIGHT

Rodney caught Ford's report over his own radio, and turned astonished eyes toward Sheppard in time to see the chair change.

The different neck rest served a purpose he'd never expected. Prongs rose up out of the device and pierced the flesh at the base of the major's neck, just behind his ears.

Sheppard made a soft sound in the back of his throat, and for half a breath, Rodney thought he was choking. His eyes were wide, unfocused and contained nothing of the man that McKay had worked so closely with over the past months.

A wide metal band had clamped around his wrists, trapping his arms in place. But his hands beneath the bands twitched, out of control. Rodney, scared witless, had absolutely no idea how to respond to the situation.

"Major!" He yelled, uncaring that he'd probably nearly deafened everyone who had their radios keyed on. Abandoning his lap top, he ran across the room, searching for a way to release his friend.

Voices continued over the radio, but he didn't have time to deal with them. Ford was handling matters there. He circled the chair, searching for the panel near the floor which had contained some of the circuitry on the Antarctica chair.

Things seemed to be getting worse for Sheppard. The horrible choking sounds were getting weaker, and where initially only his hands had shook, the convulsion was spreading to the rest of his body.

Finally finding the panel, he dove down toward it, intending to do the equivalent of puling the chair's breaker. As he came within inches of the platform, a sharp bite of electricity arced off of an invisible surface, painfully repelling his hand.

"Oww! Dammit!" He cried out at the unexpected jolt and cradled his tingling fingers in his good hand as he tried to get his brain to work. He had to think, and fast, if he was going to save his friend.

Loathe to leave Sheppard alone near the chair, he ran back to the only option remaining – the console. Spinning the lap top, he punched rapidly at the keys, noting the way the system was rapidly process . . . . something. He didn't care what it was, he just wanted to stop it. Blue was beginning to edge in on John's too pale features.

He quickly sifted through some of the systems that he'd been able to access, quickly tossing them aside as not useful to his endeavor. Panic threatened to close in on him as the seconds ticked by. And then it was no longer up to him.

His fingers froze over the keys as utter silence fell. He looked across the room at his still friend. There was a loud clink as the bands and probes retracted like quicksilver. John's eyes slid closed and he slumped bonelessly in the chair.

Rodney barely registered the arrival of first Henry and Erikson followed by Ford and Teyla. He only knew that somehow he had gotten the major to the floor and away from the chair.

A thin spot of blood sat in the center of pressure marks where the probes had gone in. Henry was leaning over Sheppard from the opposite side, asking questions, going through the ABC's of first aid. Sheppard failed in the breathing department.

Rodney stood alongside Ford and Teyla as they looked on, lost in their own private fears while Henry managed to get the major's respiratory system going again.

The trip back to the jumper was a blur of nightmarish proportions, tainted with the fear that the major's shallow breathing would again stop altogether. Stackhouse and Markham had literally run from the jumper, meeting them at the halfway point with the extended medical kit that Beckett had just that morning insisted be added to every jumper mission. It was complete with ambu-bag and oxygen, if needed.

One positive out of Sheppard nearly suffocating inside of a jumper right on Atlantis. If he wasn't so scared, Rodney might have been able to appreciate the irony that the man who'd caused the rule to go into effect was also the first one to have need of the additional supplies.

Sgt Markham was the pilot of record when Jumper One landed in the shuttle bay, a medical team ready, once again, to pick up a new patient.

"What happened?" Elizabeth asked, as she waited outside of the sick bay with the rest of the team for Beckett's diagnosis.

"The chair – we thought it was a weapons platform," Rodney explained. His voice squeaked, and the panic was still evident in his eyes. "I was working on the database, Ford and Teyla were looking around, Henry and Erikson were checking out the chamber. Major Sheppard said that he was going to try the chair."

"That's not entirely unusual," Elizabeth told him. "Major Sheppard was always the most adept at using the chair in Antarctica."

"But you don't understand," Rodney replied. "This chair was different. It changed – his hands were held down by metal bands and probes went into the back of his head. He was choking I think, and then convulsing, and then he just collapsed."

"Do you have any idea what the chair was doing to him?" Elizabeth asked, though she knew Rodney would have already communicated everything to Dr. Henry, who would then have passed it on to Carson.

Rodney put his head into his hands and blew out a breath before looking back upward, though his eyes never quite met hers. "No. I don't know. I tried to shut it down but it shocked me." He absently rubbed at the fingers of one hand.

"Do you need to have it checked out?" She asked, growing more worried for the scientist.

He waved the idea off with an uncharacteristic, "No. It's fine."

"Rodney, this isn't your fault," she tried to reassure him.

"Knowing the sort of defenses that base has, I should have checked the chair out first," Rodney argued, not ready to let himself off the hook just yet.

Elizabeth had no chance to respond as Carson appeared. All eyes focused on the medical doctor.

"He's stabilized," he announced as breaths of relief sounded around the small room. "He's being prepped for a CT Scan and several other tests as well. I'll let you know more when I know. The best all of you can do right now is go about your business and not clutter up my waiting room. This could take a while."

Elizabeth watched the group shift uncomfortably. Clearly none of them wanted to leave. She gave them a little push, deciding to lead by example.

"I'm sure Dr Beckett will do as he's promised and contact us with any updates," she said, starting for the door.

"That I will," Beckett agreed. "I'll put out the bulletin myself."

Everyone broke up then, filing out of the room one after the other. Carson called Elizabeth and Rodney back.

"I have the results of the test we were discussing last evening."

Rodney perked up at the information. "And . . . ," he prompted when the Scot hesitated.

Beckett sighed. "He doesn't have the gene – this is true, but I don't think it's a natural condition."

Rodney latched on to the statement. "What do you mean you don't think it's natural? Has he been altered in some way?"

"I believe he has," Beckett confirmed. "Very sophisticated it was, too. And now, I must get back to my other patient."

Rodney pored over the data he'd managed to get from the outpost's computer banks, searching for anything that might be used to help them understand what had happened to Sheppard. Hours and hours and hours had passed and still John hadn't awakened.

Rodney had spent much of that time in the chair at his bedside, lap top propped on his knees, continuing to search. The day had worked its way into evening and night and still Sheppard remained in the bed, still as death.

Teyla and Aiden had been by as had many of Sheppard's other friends. Through it all Rodney had remained a silent presence, working to find a solution that might give the medical experts a direction to go in.

The anomalous activity in certain parts of John's brain were evidence in Rodney's mind that whatever had taken place had to do with the way the facility had imprinted on him. No physical brain damage had been found, however, not even where the prongs had gone in. There was nothing to explain the ominous coma score of 5 – only reacting to pain.

Unfortunately, the data he'd gathered didn't seem to have much to do with the chair. It was all rather strange the way the information was laid out. It was nothing like any other Ancient database he'd ever dealt with. There wasn't even so much as a reference to the chair itself. He could only conclude that they called it something else in this particular database. But what?

He rubbed tired eyes as another line of Ancient text rolled across the screen. It blurred ever so slightly, morphing into something that strongly resembled a Jr. High School hieroglyphics project.

He squeezed his lids shut in an attempt to clear the gritty feeling. The line refocused, but soon his vision softened and his mind wandered. If he just closed his eyes, only for a moment . . . .

The infirmary was so quiet, the lights dim in observance of night hours. The silent motion of the water bubbling in the clear transducers seemed the only movement. Even Shelly, the night nurse, was missing, gone on some brief personal errand, no doubt.

The stillness began to feel unsettling and Rodney cautiously scanned the curtained area. A chill ran the length of his spine as a suspicion grew. Something wasn't right. Someone was on the other side of the privacy curtain, watching, waiting with a cold intent in their heart.

Rodney found himself moving toward the curtain, his pulse pounding in his throat. The only weapon he could find was the laptop's power supply. He hoped it wouldn't come that. As he moved forward, the distance seemed to stretch. Sweat broke out on his brow as he reached out a hand and pulled the curtain aside.

Almost immediately, something rushed him, overtaking him both on a physical and mental level. Everything in the room shifted as he went down. Lost in the cold.


	9. A Matter Of Honor

CHAPTER NINE: A MATTER OF HONOR

"Rodney!"

Rodney's eyes shot wide as he came to startled wakefulness, nearly losing the laptop that was hanging half off his lap. Only the reflexes of the wild-haired Czech scientist saved it from crashing to the floor, but Rodney wasn't about to admit that out loud.

"Are you trying to scare me to death?" he demanded, heart still pounding frantically in his chest. Halfway through the question he realized where he was and lowered his voice in deference to the major who lay sleeping behind the shorter scientist. Though, admittedly, if the noise had wakened his friend, he would have been beyond happy.

"You were having nightmare," Radek stated dryly, "that is why you scared."

"I was not scared." Rodney denied everything.

"Okay." The Czech humored him.

Rodney let it ride. "What do you want anyway? What does a guy have to do to get some sleep around here?"

Radek looked around the room with comical innocence, pushed his glasses up his nose and said, "You do not sleep as I do not sleep. Only cat nap here and there. Perhaps if you truly want sleep, you should find bed."

Rodney waved in assent of the observation. "Okay. Yeah. So, you were looking for me, because . . ?"

"Yes." Radek quickly refocused. "The granules. I have epiphany in the middle of night, possibly while you sleeping. Granules is part of larger system – that is why they do not work here."

Rodney rubbed at his eyes and thought that over as the other scientist continued speaking, gesturing wildly as was his way.

"Is like battery with only one pole. We take out of system and one pole quickly degrade and is of no use at all except maybe as grinding agent."

The light went on. "Oh, so you're suggesting that the other pole is most likely beneath the surface of the moon, perhaps even at its core."

"Exactly," Radek agreed. "That is what I'm saying. Not so easy to make power with this sand."

"Not easy, but not impossible." Rodney countered. "We just need to identify the core materials and then we can . . ."

Their discussion ended at a sound from the outer area. Someone was calling Dr. Beckett. It seemed that their visitor was waking.

_The cold dampness prickled at every part of his skin, blanketing him in a world without sound. It dragged him, pulling him along relentlessly in its wake. Something caught at his feet, tangling him in the slippery sprawl of undersea growth. _

_The tangle of blackish green changed to gray and then to deeper black. The black began to take form. . . . _

_He blinked at the reflection in the mirror. Gray long tunic and trousers, longish black hair, a thin face, softened slightly with age. Pale, unfamiliar eyes fixed on the insignia that was stitched into the fabric of the tunic. A diamond within a circle. The symbol was familiar – it called to him, and then suddenly the disorientation passed; he knew who he was. _

_He started slightly as a soft chime sounded, creating a gentle mental ripple that was as good as having someone call his name. He knew that ripple well. _

"_Come," he called, thinking the door open. Calina had always seen him off on his Caretaker duties. Why should this, his last, be any different? But he sensed an unease in her demeanor. _

"_What's wrong?" He moved around the cases containing his personal items. They would be sent through the gate to Earth and delivered to the new rooms that had been prepared for him. _

"_I don't know exactly," Calina said, her eyes sheened with worry. "I fear for you, Gaius. Are you certain that returning to the Facility alone is a good idea? Perhaps you could take one of the –"_

"_You know that isn't possible. Everyone is needed here to prepare the city. I'm the Caretaker. It is my responsibility and honor to ensure that the safeguards are in place and that the final Installation is completed. Besides," he smiled teasingly at her, hoping to lift her mood as he had done so many times before, "I won't be alone. Stonin will be with me." _

_Calina shuddered and wrapped her arms about herself. "He is so cold, Gaius, and I believe he is stronger than the Council thinks." _

_Gaius frowned. He had not expected such a strong reaction. "He'll be asleep, Cali. That is the way it is done. He won't be a threat." _

_She stared back at him, the worry remained strong in her gaze. "Please be cautious." _

"_Of course, I will," he reassured her. "I'll be on Earth before you know it." He smiled into her eyes, offering reassurance on a deeper level. _

_The darkness of her irises seemed to widen, and there was the muted sound of crashing waves. Was that a chill that blew through the room? He shivered and the roar of waters grew. _

"_Gaius? Are you all right?" Calina's worried voice seemed to come from a great distance, nearly drowned by the sea sounds. _

_His vision began to dim as the waters crept in beneath the door, its cold fingers creeping up his legs, soaking the thin material of his trousers. In horror he realized that he was falling and then the waters had him. They closed in over his head and washed him away. _

Rodney rolled his eyes as he listened to Carson trying to coax their John Doe to wakefulness. Did the man think that he was talking to a child? Or that his sweet words of assurance would matter to a man who had been out of it for millennia?

Elizabeth stood at the man's other side, looking equally a part of the man's cheering squad. Though Rodney did want him to wake up, he had no intention of baby-talking him into it – a nice stimulant would be the better solution.

"There now, very good, almost got it," Carson cooed as the man's eyes began to flutter.

Rodney tensed half in irritation and half in excitement at the approaching opportunity to speak with the man. Piled atop of all the other things he needed to know, was information about that chair. How it worked would be a great start, followed by who the heck was he and what had he done with all the weapons, and oh, by the way, why had he let someone turn his gene off?

The thought trailed through his mind that the man himself might be a weapon. That Ancients had the ability to manipulate genetic material and to build machines that sensed thoughts – a human weapon wasn't so far fetched was it?

"We can't let him wake up yet," Rodney blurted. If the man was a weapon, would he view them as intruders to Atlantis and therefore a threat?

"Make up your bloody mind, Rodney." Carson glared in his direction.

"Rodney, what's going on?" Elizabeth was more thoughtful.

Rodney took her arm and led her a few steps away from the bedside. "We should restrain him," he told her.

Elizabeth considered him a moment. "When was the last time you slept?" she questioned. Only the obvious genuineness of the question prevented his snapping a response.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "As I've already said, I think there is strong evidence that the outpost is a weapons research facility. What if this man is some kind of living, breathing weapon? How do you think he'll view us? We may look like the Ancients, but it would be obvious to someone who has lived among them that we aren't."

"You don't really think he's dangerous, Rodney? He seems so weak and fragile."

"Appearances can be deceiving. Better safe than sorry. Let's err on the side of caution. Choose any trite phrase you like and let's go with it. Remember, Ford found a body there. The least we should do is keep a security team on him."

Elizabeth nodded, seeing his point. She keyed her radio and called Bates to the infirmary.

_The waters tossed him and turned him. Sapping the very life from him. The roaring of the waves grew louder, deafening him. Cold, so very cold. _

_The inky black faded to gray. The gray morphed into white and he found himself in a room. He knew this room, didn't he? The room certainly knew him, he felt that. _

_Turning in a slow circle, he took in the consoles, small crystals flashing dutifully atop them, and the doors, currently closed, finally settling on the chair. The area at the back of his ears tingled in reaction, and then he remembered who he was and what he was there to do. _

_He sent a thought to the chair, switching it to record mode. He, the Caretaker, was performing the last duties before they left the Galaxy for who knew how long. It was an event to be put to memory for whomever the Facility chose as next Caretaker. Gaius had no doubt that it would not be him. The Wraith were too vicious and too many for a return to be safe in his lifetime. _

_Thinking briefly of his previous short meeting with Calina, and her warning, he started out of the lab. He passed the stasis chambers that had been set up in case a Caretaker or his staff needed to remain for an extended stay. _

_It seemed odd to pass the empty alcoves with the thought of leaving it all behind. What was to be his purpose on Earth, anyway? There would be no need of a Caretaker, as there would be no place such as this. He wondered that he should not remain and slumber with this Facility until they had need of him again. _

_He shook the thought aside, as he had every other time since the Council's edict that they all return to Earth. The corridor led him down into the outer tombs, far beneath the upper control lab. With a thought, the door opened and he moved past the bed where Stonin lay. _

_There was near quiet from his mind, only the low rumble that said the body's systems still functioned. Soon the process would be complete and he would Install the man in one of the chambers which were arranged along a circular column which extended downward and away from the control lab. _

_Moving beyond the bio-bed, he thought the view window open. Row upon row of stasis chambers were visible descending downward as far as the eye could see. Of the 900 chambers, 536 were occupied, soon to be 537. _

_It was a high honor to be Caretaker to those who could no longer safely reside in society. Life was of utmost importance to the Lanteans. Alive, but sleeping, was the best and most humanitarian solution for all when on rare occasions incurable, uncontrollable psychoses attacked one of its citizens. Stonin, a repeated murderer, fell solidly in that category. The Facility had recorded and verified his deeds as it had for all of the others who were ensconced there. _

_A small flicker of something drew him out of his musings. As his mind refocused on the world around him, he caught a reflection in the surface of the view window. Stonin was no longer lying on the bed; he was standing and staring at his back, malevolent intent practically oozing from every pore. _

_Gaius spun, fear rolling through his mind a split second before he could school it, and then he was firmly in control again. _

"_Get back on the bed, Stonin," he commanded the tall blonde-haired man. "There is no place for you to go, nothing else for you to do. Your only logical option is to get into the chamber where you can sleep and dream forever." _

"_No. I'd much rather stay here and chat with you," Stonin replied, his tone and manner deceptively charming. Gaius felt his subtle attempts at influence pricking at the edges of his mind. A deeper worry settled in as he began to realize that Calina was right. This man was much stronger telepathically than the Council had imagined. He thanked the heavens that the process to switch off his gene had been completed. _

"_I'm afraid that isn't going to be possible," Gaius responded to the man's comment. "This is your new home, now. Mine is elsewhere." _

"_Then we are at an impasse, dear Caretaker. I cannot let you leave." _

_With a mental command, Gaius activated the chamber that had been prepared for Stonin. It moved with mechanical ease from the wall and rolled to a stop near the bed. Once Stonin was Installed, the robotic arm would position it in the designated place in the tombs. _

"_Get into the chamber," he ordered, making his tone authoritative, using some of Stonin's own tricks of mental influence. _

"_No." Stonin laughed, completely unaffected by Gaius' powers. _

_Gaius moved forward, knowing that he would have to get closer to exert a stronger mental force. He never saw the heavy metal tool that Stonin had hidden by his side until a moment before it impacted against the side of his skull. _

_An explosion of light and color flashed inside his mind, sending him tumbling helplessly to the floor. He had the hazy presence of mind to kick the other man away when he dove toward him in an attempt to continue the attack. _

_Head swimming dizzily, he managed to think the door open so he could escape the little room. The system would not let Stonin leave it once he was gone. Moving clumsily to his feet, he made a run for it. _

_A cry of pure rage from behind alerted him to the renewed danger just as he cleared the threshold. He tried to speed the door's closing, to trap the other man, but his reactions were far too sluggish. _

_Stonin slammed into him, knocking him to the corridor floor. Wave after wave of pure murderous insanity pummeled him mentally and physically. With what remained of his strength, he conducted his last duty as Caretaker and switched the Facility to Lockdown. _

_Only Atlantis would be able to access the gate, and Atlantis would be its only destination either by shuttle or by wormhole. The shuttle pass code would be sent to the city along with the distress call warning that a heinous act had been perpetrated on one of its own. There would be no sustenance of any kind for Stonin – his only alternative to death by starvation and thirst would be to get into the chamber. Gaius, as his last act, made it all so. _

_When the waters came, drowning him in the cool fingers of death, he went willingly, knowing that he had completed his task with honor. _


	10. Things I've Learned in the Pegasus Galax...

CHAPTER TEN: THINGS I'VE LEARNED IN THE PEGASUS GALAXY

Rodney got his wish. Soon after Elizabeth had called Bates to the infirmary, their John Doe had pulled a trick much like the alternate universe Elizabeth had done. He opened his eyes, took one look around and immediately fell back asleep. Even with the knowledge of a dead body back on the outpost, Elizabeth still wouldn't allow the administration of stimulants.

Sgt Bates, who was suspicious of everyone, had done little to hide the fact that he didn't see the skinny, ten-thousand-year-old sleeping sick guy as much of a threat. Yet, he hadn't argued with Elizabeth's suggestion, and had dutifully assigned a marine to stand guard before excusing himself to go back to doing whatever it was that he did in the middle of the night.

Rodney was left with Elizabeth, Carson, the marine and the Doe guy. Elizabeth considered him with a patented look of a concern and suggested that he get some rest. Carson wasn't speaking to him. They both left within minutes of Bates. The marine didn't seem at all interested in a conversation about the potential risks of a bio-engineered soldier, and Doe had lain there, motionless, looking remarkably weak and ill while Rodney had stared down at him, untrusting, willing him to wake up again so that he could get the answers that he sought.

Feeling deeply unsettled, and a little like a man alone shouting against deafening wind, Rodney returned to task. He regretted having sent Radek off to get some sleep – real sleep. He had a feeling the other man would have been on his side, if only for the science of it. And Sheppard, if he hadn't been in a coma, would have backed him up too, after giving him some crap about it, of course.

As he moved through the privacy curtain into Sheppard's area, that thought alone reinforced an idea building in the back of his mind. He let it take him on past the major's bed where he rummaged around in the box containing the other man's belongings. The thigh holster was wrapped neatly and tucked in beneath the uniform pants. The 9 millimeter, that was standard equipment for any gate mission, was there waiting for him.

It felt cold and out of place in his hand. He stared at it for long moments; maybe Elizabeth was right and he was paranoid from lack of sleep. His head ached abominably, and his eyes burned, making it difficult for him to focus. But he absolutely had to get somewhere with the data, and sitting there, staring at the major's gun wasn't helping.

_Now what?_ The memory of he and Sheppard taking on a wraith just before Ford had blown the creature away – literally – flashed through his mind. His over-sized brain had failed him on that occasion.

"Now what?" he whispered and looked up at his friend. There was a minute flicker of motion in the other man's features. Disbelief and hope warred for prominence. Had he imagined it? Delirious from sleep deprivation? And then it happened – the back-and-forth REM motion indicative of dreaming.

A ridiculous grin broke out across his face – this was progress! Previously, the only thing they'd been able to get out of him had been off-the-charts bizarre brain wave readings.

The answer came to him with all the force of a ton of bricks. Brain waves . . . it all slid into place with a near audible click.

Rodney dropped the gun on top of the bed, forgotten, and headed for the curtain, wanting to first alert Carson to Sheppard's change, and second to get a copy of the EEG data from the earlier tests. He had a feeling if he compared it to the data he'd pulled from the database, it would be remarkably similar. The Ancients weren't doing weapons research at the outpost – they were recording thoughts, maybe even memories!

Halfway to the curtain, a cold shiver of intuition shot down his spine.

The sick bay had gone uncannily quiet. "Is there anyone there?" he called out, hating the way his voice shook, hoping that Bates' marine would answer. Only an ominous whisper of sound reached his ears.

Déjà vu washed unsettlingly through him as he recognized the similarity of the situation to his previous nightmare. He reached up to key his radio, intending to call Ford, Elizabeth, anyone who could answer and let him know that he wasn't alone – that this nightmare hadn't become a reality. But then he remembered that he'd taken the device off hours ago. His fear-ridden brain gave him a precise and useless image of it sitting on the night stand in his quarters.

He looked back to Sheppard, his panic deepening as he noted that the other man's dream didn't appear to be a pleasant one. He swallowed. This was ridiculous. Why should he be afraid over a little silence? The marine was probably napping, and the night nurse was probably off answering the call of nature.

Telling himself to stop behaving like a frightened little girl, he moved determinedly back toward the privacy curtain. His heart pounded in his throat as he yanked back the material.

_The waters pulled at him, dark and cold, taking him under. He had lived his life to the full, seen and done remarkable things, sacrificed for the lives of those he loved. What greater legacy could any man ask? _

_But something prickled at the edges of the resolute acceptance of his circumstances. Something determined, and growing in strength; something that caused him to struggle against the force of suddenly churning waters. The surge threatened to send him upward, toward the surface and sunlight. No longer a safe haven, it was a place where he would be tossed and broken against jutting rocks and crushing tidal forces. _

_The need grew in his heart, sending him diving downward, plunging into the darkness where the fear and desperation was strongest – where the indescribable need to protect led him. _

_The faster and harder he swam, the thicker the waters became until it felt as if he was moving through molasses. Yet the danger remained; a familiar villain, seeking to do damage to one of his own. _

_The black void ahead grew ever deeper, and along with the darkness came the first chilling sensation of pain. Not the worst he'd experienced, but it emanated from every millimeter of his body, exacerbated by his continued attempts to press onward. The need kept him going; the memory of what this man was capable of; the desire to complete his duty as new Caretaker with honor. He knew who he was. _

John's eyes flew open to the sound of bodies crashing to the floor. He was moving, even before the room came fully into focus. His hand brushed past the gun and instinctively wrapped around it, bringing it upward with deadly aim.

"Stonin!" he called his name, voice slurred with exhaustion and reaction. "Let him go!"

The sound of the struggle came to a sudden halt. Only gasping breathy sounds were made somewhere out of John's sight. Stonin appeared, coming more fully into his view as he came to his feet.

He saw Rodney next, scooting weakly back away from the blonde-haired man, panting pitifully as a hand went up to touch reddened hand marks already forming about his neck.

Stonin, ignoring McKay's struggles, focused solely on John, his predatory stance oddly reminiscent of the Wraith. A small crooked smile formed on his features and a chuckle bubbled up from someplace deep in his throat.

"You're just a puny shadow of the former Caretaker. Surely you don't think you have a chance --"

John pulled the trigger, cutting the man off mid-derisive comment. The blast echoed around the infirmary even as Stonin fell backward at the impact, taking the privacy curtain and a cart that had been sitting on the other side of it, with him.

Somewhere, John found the strength to get out of the bed and move to stand over the murderous villain – he refused to even think of him as anything as honorary as 'Ancient'.

"Think again," he told the other man, before shooting a quick glance in Rodney's direction.

"You all right?" He asked.

"Yeah. I'm good," Rodney replied, "How. . . I mean. . . what?" Clearly the other man wasn't sure which burning question to ask first.

"You will never be able to hold me." Stonin spoke as if Rodney's comments hadn't been made. Hot fury burned from his gaze even as blood flowed from the shoulder wound that John had inflicted.

For trying to kill Rodney, he probably should have put the bullet into his skull instead, but he knew that Gaius would not have wanted that. The job that his predecessor had begun needed to be completed.

On a level that he couldn't explain, John knew what Stonin was about, that he was trying to influence him. He knew that had the other man's body not been weakened prior to going into the Caretaker's chamber, the shoulder wound would not have affected him so much. He could feel the other man growing weaker, despite his attempts to hide it. Now was the time if he meant to complete Gaius' task.

Not bothering to answer Stonin, he glanced up as the infirmary doors opened and running footsteps sounded. He held his ground as security approached, followed by Beckett. The man's expression would have been positively priceless had John's legs not gone to rubber about then.

Rodney appeared suddenly at his side. "Thanks for saving my life," he murmured, then, "Now, let me have that. You like you're about to fall down."

"I am about to fall down," he admitted. Then, at an urgent need to answer at least one of Rodney's un-voiced questions, he announced to the room at large, "It's a prison." Everything that happened for the rest of the night would forever remain a blur.

The afternoon was winding down as Carson came to a stop a little ways away from the group that was gathered near the lake. It was odd that a place, so far from home, could remind a body so mightily of a place near to his heart. Pushing down the surge of homesickness before it could grow out of control, he looked at those gathered there, remembering the events that had taken place the past few days.

Though it had been less than a day since Major Sheppard had awoken from his coma, never mind regaining his strength, the man had insisted that he needed to return through the gate to take the man they'd learned was called Stonin back where he belonged.

He knew that short of sedating Sheppard into oblivion, he wouldn't be able to get him to stay under normal circumstances. But where Stonin was concerned, the major seemed entirely driven to be about taking the man back to the outpost before it was too late. Elizabeth sided with him after hearing his, admittedly engaging, experiences on the condition that Carson be on hand as well – for both Sheppard and their prisoner.

And so it was that he made the journey through the gate and to the moon where the outpost was located. He'd watched, a bit awed, as Sheppard went through the routines of operation as if he had done them many times before. He didn't seem to truly relax until Stonin was Installed – the major's word – in the chamber that had been waiting for him for 10,000 years.

Before they left the outpost, they took care of Gaius' remains. He had been brought back to Atlantis and buried on the mainland on a spot overlooking a lake that some had already taken to calling Lake Gaius.

Moving on toward the group, Carson decided it was time to join the party, if only to check on his most recent patient. John had confessed during a check up that morning that Gaius' memories were starting to fade, as was the headache that had plagued him for days.

Carson realized, as he drew closer, that he'd come in on the tail-end of a game of 'Things I've Learned In The Pegasus Galaxy'.

"I've learned," Rodney said, "That shiny, glowy sand doesn't always a power source make. Especially when it's part of a giant system to power an Ancient prison."

The rest of the group chided him and teased him about the remark until Sheppard spoke up.

"I've learned, never sit in ornate old chairs. They always end up being a pain in the neck."

"As I recall," Carson jumped into the conversation, "it took you more than once to learn that lesson, now didn't it?"

Laughter sounded around the group and Carson smiled in satisfaction. Life, it seemed, was returning to normal.


End file.
